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“I thought you said you were only slightly drunk?” I questioned, stifling a giggle and ohyep, he was definitely hard again. I could feel him growing beneath me.

“Shh.” He pressed his finger against my lips. “You’re drunk.”

“No,” I laughed, feeling myself loosen up with his playfulness. “You’redrunk.”

“I’m horny,” he declared gruffly. “And that’s not sensible.” He shook his head. “Nope, that’s not a good plan, Shan, because I’m a Johnny with no johnnies.”

“Johnny!”

“I know I’m hard,” he continued to ramble on. “I can feel my dick trying to break out of my shorts to get to you, but I don’t know exactlywheremy dickisright now, doyou?”

“Yeah, I can feel it rubbing against me.” I chuckled. “I promise, it’s still in your pants.”

“Oh, thank god.” He sighed a huge gasp of relief. “I keep thinking it’s gonna be gone.” Squirming, he added, “They put a lot of needles near it, Shan.”

“I know, baby,” I soothed, trying not to laugh at him. “It’s terrible.”

“Itwasfucking terrible,” he told me, nodding eagerly. “All the blood, and the blue balls, and the…” He shrugged and stared down atmylap for several beats before groaning loudly. “Ah, shite. Look, Shan! It’s definitely gone.”

“Oh, Johnny.” I shook my head and kissed him. “You’re a big dope.”

“Hmm.” He pulled my bottom lip into his mouth and sucked. “Sorry,” he apologized, releasing my lip with a loud pop. “I just wanted a small taste of you.”

Oh god…

“Lads, lads, lads, shut up, will ya? I have a song for ye!” Gibsie announced as he jerked to his feet, only to fall over the log he had been sitting on and land on his back in a heap. “Feely, strum me a chord, will ya?” he called out as he lay on the flat of his back with a cigarette balancing between his lips. “Good man yourself.”

Everyone screamed with laughter as Gibsie cleared his throat and started to sing his own drunken rendition of Richie Kavanagh’s “My Girlfriend’s Pussy Cat” at the top of his lungs. Smirking, he locked eyes on Claire, and I knew right there and then that he was directing every word to her. He was singing these words at her, and he wanted her to know he meant theoppositeof the lyrics.

“I’m a great sailor,” Johnny declared, distracting me from Gibsie’s hilariousmeownoises. “Did you know that?”

“No.” Smiling, I turned fully in his arms now. “You like to sail?”

“I’d love to sail,” he purred, reaching down to squeeze my ass. “Down your river again.”

“Oh.” Awareness dawned on me and I blushed bright red. “Well, in that case, you’re an excellent sailor.”

“I know, right?” he said with a proud grin. “Years of practice.”

I scrunched my nose up. “Uh, yeah…”

“Oops.” He slapped a hand over his mouth. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “You kind of did.”

“Should I get the dick boat out?” he asked, eyes wide.

“No, Johnny.” I laughed, too amused to be put out by his overshare. “Not here.”

“Well, I only sail one river now,” he amended with a frown. “That’s yours—” He paused to point at me. “In case you were wondering.”

“Okay.” I chuckled. “I got that. Thanks, though.”

“No, thankyou,” he purred before heaving out a loud sigh. “I need a piss.”

“Uh, okay.”

“I can’t,” he replied, looking forlorn.

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